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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22451056">To Be Seen</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylvain/pseuds/sylvain'>sylvain</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Bay Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Artist!Reader, Friends to Lovers, Other, Prompt Fill, Reader with a stutter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 15:00:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,512</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22451056</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylvain/pseuds/sylvain</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>PROMPT FILL for tumblr: Leo finds Reader’s art depicting their interest for him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Leonardo (TMNT)/Gender Neutral Reader, Leonardo (TMNT)/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>111</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>To Be Seen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When you see him sitting in the dojo, under the great tree, your stomach twists and your heart jumps.  It’s almost no different than the last time you walked in on him during a quiet moment--always a spike of anxiety, always a flutter in your core.  But today he has a book propped on his knee, his brow furrowed in thought, the blue tails of his bandana twisting between his fingers, and you know.  You just know.  </p><p>He’s found it.  Your portfolio.  He found it and you can’t believe that Honor Boy actually opened it. He’s sitting there, holding your art like looking through it isn’t the gravest violation of privacy he could have made, and the anxiety you feel isn’t just the crush you struggle and fail to ignore.  There’s embarrassment and anger and fear.  If he’s seen what you’ve drawn, then he knows the secret you’ve kept so closely guarded.  If he knows your true feelings for him, then everything between you is going to change.</p><p>Everyone has their way to center, their hobbies and interest and talents.  The things that consume them and put their minds at ease.  For Donatello it’s his machines and music.  For Leonardo it’s meditation and martial arts.  Raphael has the gym and nights out with Casey.  Michelangelo hops from the kitchen to the arcade without prejudice.  </p><p>And you… you found your peace in your art.  The scratch of pencils over the textured paper of your notebook, the smudge of graphite on the edge of your hand, the calluses on your knuckles.  You live in it--your art. It’s all part of it.  You find peace while sitting in the quiet corners of a room.  Your art is your safe space. </p><p>It wasn't until you told yourself that you could have this space, the small piece of the world that's all your own, that you let yourself open up. You promised yourself no one would see it, no one would judge it.  You carved out this space, you made your promises, and the art poured out of you.</p><p>And now Leonardo sits in your usual spot with your art--your heart--in his hands.  He traces the book’s binding with his thumb and your chest aches.  Your arms and face tingle as you watch him and wonder how much he’s seen.  Feelings of self-consciousness grow in you like a wall, threatening to immobilize you.  But you take a step forward, forcing anger past your embarrassment.  </p><p>Your lips part, ready to call Leo out for what he’s done.  But he beats you to the punch.</p><p>“Hey,” he says, looking up.  It’s a quiet greeting.  More tender than it has any right to be.  His expression is so soft it’s disarming.  </p><p>You harden your stare.  He’s not allowed to look at you like this anymore.  Not after this.  He’s taken the one piece of this world that was your own and looked inside without permission.  You would have never crossed this line, if circumstances were reversed.  You would never trample his rock garden or mess with his weapons.  So, no, he doesn’t get this; he doesn’t get immediate forgiveness after trespassing through your privacy--even if his voice does carry all the comforts you’ve ever craved.  </p><p>When he requests your company, the book is still in his lap.  For what it’s worth, he doesn’t hide what he’s found.  “Come sit?” he asks carefully.  And you want to.  He’s your best friend.  But you need to keep your distance.  You’ll forgive him too easily if you step into his orbit and let yourself be carried away by his charms. </p><p>He’s looking at you with his large blue eyes that always seem to see.  You struggle to stand your ground, when what you really want to do is hide.  He’s already seen too much.  What right does he have to ask for more?</p><p>You’ve always preferred to exist where you won’t be seen.  It’s a talent you’ve been honing since even before meeting the turtles. You like quiet spaces where it seems like life can slow down for a while.  It’s why you’ve spent so much time in the dojo, by the garden.  Nestled among the roots of the great tree, you could lean back and listen to the rainwater runoff.  You could watch the boys train, or Leonardo tend his garden or sit for tea.  <em>‘It’s all a form of meditation,’</em> he’d said once when he caught you stealing a glance, ‘if you let it in.’</p><p><em>‘Let it in.’</em>  Leonardo’s been saying that alot.  Especially recently.  And you’re not sure what it’s supposed to mean.  </p><p>Leonardo is patient, even when it looks like you aren’t going to join him on the mat.  “This is yours, right?”  He turns the book in his hands, then holds it out to you like it’s nothing more than a casual exchange between friends.  But it’s not as easy as all that, no matter how badly you wish it could be.  “I guess you left it behind when me and the guys had to head out in a hurry.”</p><p>You look off to the side, if only to escape the guilty glint in Leo’s eye.  ‘Head out in a hurry’ is putting it lightly.  The guys had scrambled into the van and gone topside with only half their gear in order to catch up with the Foot.  They had left you worrying for hours without a word of their safety.  But the lowlifes had been caught by sunrise and the turtles returned home unscathed.  You, however, had to get back to the university for an early studio session and didn’t notice your private portfolio was missing until you were setting up your desk.</p><p>You hug the portfolio as you wrack your mind for a response. <em> ‘Thanks,’ </em>feels too passive, too permissive.  And as for anything stern, well, you aren’t sure you can string a sentence together without tripping over your words.</p><p>During your silence, Leo continues to explain.  “It was Mikey’s turn to clean the dojo.  He found it there and-”</p><p>“A-and he th-thought you guys could just g-go through my things?” You push your way through the sentence, rising up on your toes as if looking down on Leonardo will give you confidence.  You know you should take time to calm down, that your stutter will only frustrate you further the more upset you allow yourself to become.</p><p>“No. Mikey brought it to me since-”</p><p>“Since w-w-what, Leo?”  <em>Since he saw what’s inside?  Shit,</em> you know it’s because Mikey saw what’s inside.  He’s not a moron.  And he’s an artist in his own right.  He’s good at puzzles.  Most of his videogames are strategy based, when push comes to shove.  Of course he’d figure it out, even if your work is more abstract than not.</p><p>Leo sits unperturbed by your anger.  In fact, he remains steady in voice and posture as he replies, “Since I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”</p><p>You wish his calm wasn’t so damn, well, calming.  You bite your lips between your teeth and take a deep breath through your nose and damnit if that doesn’t calm you further.  You ask him, “About what?” and you’re surprised by how gentle you sound.  Where’s your indignance?  He messed up.  He should be apologizing.  <em>Why isn’t the guy who values his virtues so much apologizing?  </em></p><p>“I wanted to talk to you about... your art.”  This is the first time you’ve heard even a hint of hesitation, of nervousness, in your stalwart friend.</p><p>You shrink into yourself, even more afraid of what he could have to say, and Leo’s frown deepens.  Despite your preference for solitude, despite the feelings you’ve kept from him, you’ve never pulled away before. “What about it?”</p><p>“I still have the sketch you made of my katanas from a while back,” he admits, but it almost sounds like he’s changing the subject.  “You make it look effortless.  Which I know it isn't.  But… I see you, y'know?”  </p><p>There’s a pause afterward and it feels like the world is rushing in around you.  <em>What does he see? </em></p><p>He continues, “When you're in the dojo.  You get so caught up in your work.  I see you stretching and shaking off the cramps, but you're driven.  And I don’t think anyone really sees…”  He folds his hands in his lap as he holds your gaze.  “But I want to.  If that's alright."</p><p>“You want to see what I’ve drawn?”</p><p>“I want…”  Instead of finishing his thought, Leonardo takes a moment for himself and then nods.</p><p>“You didn’t look?”  It surprises you how easy it is to believe him.</p><p>“Of course not.”  He admits his ignorance of what’s hidden within your portfolio; he affirms that your assumption he’d breached your trust had been a misunderstanding.  He looks up at you with a curious tilt to his head and an apology for worrying you in his gaze.  Your heart breaks a little realizing he isn’t the one who should be apologizing at all.</p><p>“Geez, Honor Boy,” you force a smile as your anger recedes and your anxiety comes rushing back.  “Th-they really b-broke the mold when they m-made you, huh?”  </p><p>Leo glances at the portfolio in your arms and then finds your eyes again.  With patience and care, he holds out his palm.  “May I?”  There’s no expectation in his request.  You know you can refuse him without retribution.  But you think, it’s better to know.  It’s better for each of you to know where the other stands.  At least then, your world won’t be clouded with maybes and what ifs.  </p><p>Not trusting your words, you swallow hard.  Your hand shakes as you hold out the book.  You think you’ll lose your grip if he doesn’t take it quickly.  But Leo’s movements are slow.  He blinks up at you as he brushes his fingertips over yours and your heart skips a beat.  When he receives the book it’s with the care that he takes regarding all of the things he holds most dear.  You think you’re being silly to entertain the idea that maybe he holds you among them.</p><p>You chew your lips and tug at your sleeves and you watch him lift the cover.  With small humphs and thoughtful nods, he pauses and flips through your most intimate thoughts.  You lift your voice to explain which are assignments and which were done in your leisure, but he already seems to know.  You wonder how he can sit there so calmly while he holds your heart in his hands.  How he can sit there while your throat tightens, your hands curl into fists, your face burns red.  Your eyes sting.  </p><p>When he looks up at you, he seems caught off guard by your expression.  “Are you alright?  You’re not.  What’s wrong?”</p><p>You know that if he goes any further into that book, he’ll see.  He’ll find the shift--the moment you started falling for him.  It’s illustrated in those pages.  You’re still not sure if you’re ready for him to find out, but a greater part of you needs this uncertainty to be over.</p><p>Leo says, “These are incredible,” and your stomach flips.  “I knew you were an artist, but… why don’t you display your work?”</p><p>You shake your head.  The question is better answered by the pages he’s yet to see.  “Th-there’s more.” </p><p>Leo considers your words and holds out his hand to you.  “Come sit,” he requests.  They’re the same words as before, but somehow they hold more weight.  He wears an expression that leads you to believe he’d be crushed if you don’t join him this time.</p><p>You sit.  But you don’t do it for him.  You do it because when he looks through the next half of the book, you’re afraid your legs will give out beneath you.  You’re afraid you’ll run out of the dojo and, for the first time, truly hide from your best friend.  You’re afraid that if you don’t sit with Leo, you’ll lose him.  So, you sit.</p><p>Curled up with your knees to your chest and your chin propped on top of them, you prompt Leo to turn the page.  You hold your breath as he complies.</p><p>There’s blue.  So much blue.  All different hues.  There are lines, sharp like the blades of Leo’s swords.  Blended hues flowing across the pages in ribbons.  There are sunbursts of blue and white and grey.  </p><p>Leo turns the pages by the corners, peeking through the rest.  You wonder what he’s looking for.  Does he think he’ll find similar sections for purple, orange, and red?  You know he won’t.  Your thoughts, your art, are consumed by blue.</p><p>Leo’s head is bowed and his eyes are downcast when he closes the book and sets it aside.  He’s taking deep breaths when he turns to you and you take one of your own to prepare yourself for rejection.  </p><p>But then he lifts his gaze and his sunburst irises are looking at you with new light.  With understanding. With something more.  You convince yourself the hope you see is merely a reflection of what your own eyes must be broadcasting.   </p><p>“May I kiss you?”  </p><p>His question comes as such a surprise it renders you speechless.  You’re stuck, stock still, for an interminable moment before he speaks again.  The sound of your name on his tongue draws you out of your fog and you feel yourself nodding before you realize you’re doing so.</p><p>Leo rises to one knee to close the space between you.  The air is charged and you know the crackle of nervous energy is all your own.  Because Leo is calm.  He’s sure.  </p><p>The hairs on your arms stand on end as he leans in.  Your gaze flits from his eyes to his lips and back.  </p><p>When his hand alights to your cheek it’s a soft touch, but insistent.  He’s not scared and his confidence in the moment eases your own worry.  He’s secure in his feelings for you and you’re safe in his hands.  It’s enough assurance that you allow yourself one last look at his eyes before letting yours close.  His hand is gentle as it guides you toward him, before he presses his mouth to yours.  </p><p>Somehow, even after months of falling, it seems like you’ve never wanted to kiss Leo as much as you do now that he’s caught your lips with his own.  You need more.  </p><p>Your hands slide up his shoulders to the back of his neck and pull him in.  He makes a small sound of surprise, and you can’t help but smile against his lips, knowing you’ve caught the ninja off guard.  He braces himself with one hand against the tree behind you as you deepen the kiss. </p><p>Kissing Leo is more than you could have imagined it would be.  It feels right and you feel settled.  For the first time, in a long time, you feel seen. You’re being seen and it isn’t terrifying, because Leo is the one looking and you trust him to keep you safe.  </p>
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